Archaic Anger
by Redderhead
Summary: Reunion Fic! Instead; Sherlock Holmes is the one whose Angry about being away from John. Rated T...I think! Johnlock!


_Just a little fluff :o) _

_I own nout._

**Archaic Anger**

"Where have you been?" John asked weakly as he lay back in his usual armchair in the living room of 221B Baker Street.

"I have been staying with Ms Adler" Sherlock replied shortly, sitting forward in his own armchair, his hands clasped together between his knees and his facial expression resembling genuine concern.

John nodded curtly and avoided the taller man's gaze at all costs, now examining his walking stick handle as it remained in his left hand.

The pair remained quiet for a moment or two in the dark space of their old and cold living room. Sherlock examined John closely; reading every ounce of his clothing hungrily.

The consulting detective could tell that John had not been well; mainly from the anti-depressants that were self prescribed. John had been staying at Harry's flat in East London, he had purchased new shampoo and hair styling products and his clothes had not been replaced, they were a little more worn than three years ago. He had lost approximately 16lbs; making him severely underweight and weak.

"John, you must understand that I had to go away" Sherlock attempted lightly, raising his eyebrows in a matter of fact manner.

"Really? Good, good…I'm glad you did what you wanted to" John returned tiredly, his right arm bending at the elbow to palm his temple.

"John" Sherlock sighed with an added eye-roll. "Do not be dull. I had to go away in order to save both of our lives. You would have been shot that day if I had not tricked you into thinking _I _had died" Sherlock explained urgently.

"Right. So, you stayed away for three years in order to, what? Track down one man with one gun?" John asked sarcastically.

"Forty three men, with eighty four guns" Sherlock replied sharply, focusing the soldier with a wolf-like gaze.

"Moriarty's web?" John offered sadly.

"Indeed" Sherlock hummed as he allowed himself to lay back in his old chair.

The two men retreated into silence for a further minute or so.

"Irene's alive then?" John asked tentatively, with his right hand now running a thumb and index finger along the arm chair's stitching distractedly.

"Yes" Sherlock said quietly. "I fooled Mycroft easily".

"And me" John said quietly. The hint of sadness and disappointment laced in his words did not go unnoticed by the detective.

"It was necessary, John" Sherlock said, still staring unblinkingly at the doctor.

John's hand stopped on the armrest of the old chair as he looked down at his knees with red eyes.

"Necessary to leave me, necessary to find someone better _suited_ to you. Well god knows I'm not good enough" John murmured, his once lively and infamous anger now delimited to a weak stature and wavering voice.

"John, I don't understand" Sherlock said dismissively, one eyebrow raised as he tilted his head at the soldier.

"Why don't you just go back to Irene Adler and leave me be" John muttered as he leant on his cane to get to his feet.

Sherlock stood in one elegant movement, swooping across the room to block John's exit with an arm across the doorway.

"I will not tolerate teenage behaviour, John, especially not from _you_" Sherlock bit angrily "Sit down, _now_".

John, a little taken aback by Sherlock's anger stumbled slightly but returned to his armchair to sit gingerly and await the consulting detectives' explanation.

"I have given away three years of my life in order to track down the largest criminal web ever organised. I have had both arms and a leg broken in that time. I have spent a great deal of the British Government's favours that they previously owed me and I have travelled every continent there is. I used Irene Adler as protection in order to fight my way across Europe, I killed forty people single-handedly and I did all this because I wanted _you_ to be _safe._" Sherlock growled as he laced his hands behind his back and paced the living room rug between the two armchairs.

John's jaw slacked a little as he watched Sherlock uncomfortably.

"I used Irene's contacts to track down every member of Moriarty's mob and I finished this afternoon with the one that had a sniper rifle trained on you the day I jumped." Sherlock said, averting John's gaze and still pacing.

"I killed him slowly." Sherlock said ferociously.

"Irene is now in America with her family" the detective continued. "I am now back where I want to be, only to find that the man I have been putting before all else is abusing prescription drugs and not taking care of himself."

John looked guiltily toward the floor.

"Not only that, but I hear from Greg Lestrade that you, John Watson, tried to take your own life" Sherlock stops now and stares at John with an anger the soldier did not know he had.

John began picking at the stitching once more on his arm chair.

"Now, when I am finally back, I find the flat empty, I find my things in boxes – unsold, and I find that my colleague is half the size he used to be, frail and broken, living on his sisters' couch. What have I taught you about sentimentality John?" Sherlock hissed as he walked toward the window to stare at the street.

Silence once more embraced the room as John felt tears escape his tired eyes.

"I thought you could handle it, John" Sherlock murmured as he watched people pass on the dark pavement outside.

"So could I" John replied just as quietly "I used to be such a strong man, Sherlock. But then I met you, and I didn't need to be strong all the time. I just needed to be dependable" John continued, risking a glance back at the man with his back to him. "I healed when I met you, Sherlock. And when you left…well, I fell apart" John said, his voice finally giving way.

Sherlock's face softened at the sound of his soldier friend crying softly behind him. Turning slightly, he saw John with bowed head, his chest racking with sobs.

"John" he murmured as he walked swiftly toward the armchair. Sherlock landed heavily on his knees as he placed his hands on John's. "I'm sorry John"

To Sherlock's dismay, his words only seemed to make John cry harder.

"Tell me what to do, John. What do I need to do?" Sherlock asked weakly as he looked helplessly up at his long lost friend.

John looked up at Sherlock now, a hand flying out to grab hold of his upper arm.

"Tell me you are real" John demanded lightly, trying in vain to suppress his tears.

"John, I am" Sherlock said in surprise. "I am alive, I am here, I promise you" he said worriedly.

"Tell me why you were with _her _and not with me" John sobbed out.

Here, Sherlock's insides flipped outside. What was John asking? He had already explained what her role had been in helping him track down the criminals. But the way John asked this question haunted him greatly.

"What do you mean, John? I have already explained" Sherlock attempted before John cut across him.

"You love her Sherlock, you love her intelligence, you and her…you're meant for each other. And I was left here because you didn't want me. I am the broken toy you didn't want" John sobbed harder as his words racked his vocal chords.

"I don't, understand, John" Sherlock said, now more bemused than ever.

"Go back to Irene, Sherlock. Don't make things harder for me" John wailed.

Sherlock sat back on his heels on their wooden floor.

"Watson. Look at me" Sherlock demanded. "Stop crying and look at me"

John, much to his own surprise, immediately stopped crying, his face remained stained with tears; every once in a while he would hiccup slightly; it was the only noise that filled the room for a brief silence.

"If you are suggesting that I have a _romantic_ interest in Ms Adler. You would be wrong." Sherlock stated, fixing John with a stern stare. "I only admire her intelligence; I certainly do not want to mate with it." He said, tilting his head once more as a disgusted expression crossed his sharp features.

"As for you being the 'broken toy that I didn't want'; you are unsurprisingly, wrong again." Sherlock said with a weak smile. "Leaving you, John Watson, was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. But the thought of loosing you was the more frightening than I could bear. I had no choice. I had to keep you safe. No matter that Lestrade and Mrs Hudson were in the same boat, no matter that even _I_ was in the same position. The only person I could think about saving; was you. And I am not ashamed to tell you, John, that the killing of the sniper who once held you in his sights was the most enjoyable activity I have ever taken part in" Sherlock finished, looking up at John with a wild and irrational expression.

John looked a little taken aback by the torrent of words leaving the consulting detectives mouth and he simply stared at it once Sherlock had finished.

"You see, John. I have a theory" Sherlock said gently as he rose once more on his knees to be eye level with the doctor.

"I believe…" Sherlock said, reaching a hand out to stroke John's cheek.

"I love you" John blurted, his eyes watering once more as he stared longingly at Sherlock's lips.

"Obviously" Sherlock dismissed, moving closer to the doctor. "But my theory is much more surprising" he whispered.

"My theory is, John, that I did all those things because _I _am in love with _you._" Sherlock murmured as he closed the gap between them as much as possible without actually touching.

John whimpered slightly as Sherlock suddenly removed himself in order to walk into the kitchen.

"But first, we need to wean you off the anti-depressants and get you some food. That should be enough incentive, yes?" Sherlock asked cheerily.

John's eyes felt sore as they once more spilled over silently. Weakly, the doctor got to his feet and looked over to the tall man gracing the kitchen table.

"Sherlock…_please_" John said imploringly as he held an arm out, the one not currently grasping his cane tightly, his fingers outstretched toward the younger man.

The sight broke Sherlock's impossible heart and it took him nothing to pull the shorter man to him, enveloping the blonde haired doctor in his long arms.

"We just need to build you back up, John. No damage done" Sherlock said positively as he stroked a hand up and down John's jumper clad back soothingly.

Secretly, Sherlock loved the information all of his strong senses were feeding him. His nose picked up John's familiar and homely scent, his eyes spotted the hairs that had turned grey upon John's head in his absence. Sherlock's hands took in every inch of material on that woollen jumper, his ears picked up the relieved sigh that escaped his companions mouth and before he knew it, the detectives' bow shaped lips were tasting the skin at John's temple.

John closed his eyes in the first embrace he had ever received from his friend, colleague and flat mate. He couldn't deny that the revelation of being in love with Sherlock Holmes had not yet sunk in, nor had the fact that Sherlock Holmes loved him back. But for now, he was content with the idea that Sherlock was back, and he was back home for good…wasn't he?

Sherlock felt John's hands grasp his shirt tightly as the cane clattered to the floor. He noticed the frozen stature of his shorter partner with some concern.

"I will not be leaving, John" Sherlock said gently but firmly, smiling widely as he felt John relax in his embrace and bury his face in the crook of Sherlock's neck.


End file.
